


Wasted Enough Time

by Nehesemhotep



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Cutting, Episode: s05e18 Point of No Return, Love Confessions, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 01:43:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4985140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehesemhotep/pseuds/Nehesemhotep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'It would be better when this was all over.  Dean would be dead, and he could stop disappointing people.  Dean remembered the force of Cas’ fists striking him when he found him in the alley.  He also remembered the shout of pain when Cas was zapped out of the panic room.  “So, when I, you know, used the sigil, did it...hurt?”<br/>Cas looked up at him, pausing,  “Well, it wasn’t enjoyable.” he stated petulantly.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wasted Enough Time

        Dean and Sam walked back into the living room at Bobby’s house. Dean was rubbing his wrist lightly from the chafing of the handcuff, he must have been pulling against it even while unconscious.  Castiel was looking at the manuscripts scattered on Bobby’s desk, and when Dean walked in he turned with an expression of residual anger and hurt.  The look dissolved into a slight chagrin when his eyes flicked over Dean’s face.  Sam walked through the kitchen and into the junkyard, presumably to go find Bobby.  Dean folded his arms defensively, “So Adam.”

        Cas nodded,  “Yes. It was probably in a dream. I should have thought of that, but...” He gestured uselessly with his hands. It was an extremely human gesture that betrayed a sense of hopelessness.  Dean felt guilty looking at the angel, knowing that in the same room Adam was being kept, he made Cas choose. He made Cas _fall_.

        It would be better when this was all over.  Dean would be dead, and he could stop disappointing people.  Dean remembered the force of Cas’ fists striking him when he found him in the alley.  He also remembered the shout of pain when Cas was zapped out of the panic room.  

        “So, when I, you know, used the sigil, did it...hurt?”

        Cas looked up at him, pausing,  “Well, it wasn’t enjoyable.” he stated petulantly.  Dean let out a forced laugh,

        “Don’t hold back on my account.”

        Cas’ eyes narrowed,  “All right, Dean. It felt like someone poured acid into my grace-dissolving the boundary between my vessel and my true form, before I reappeared and the two knit themselves together again.”  Dean took in a sharp breath, and was about to speak when Cas kept talking, “But the truth is that pain was nothing compared to the hurt I feel constantly from you.”  

        Dean stuttered, a cold flaring in his gut,  “Cas, I-”.  Cas stepped closer; his face inches from Dean’s own.  Then his lips were on Dean’s, desperate and hungry.  Caught unaware, Dean stumbled back into a bookshelf.  He felt his lips begin to respond when Cas pulled away, face twisted and eyes wet, his hands gripping Dean’s wrists in an iron grip.  He appeared speechless, throat moving and choking on his own distressed breathing.  

        Dean was torn between embracing Cas, placing soft kisses on his neck until that tortured expression was long gone from his face; and shoving him away, and releasing a nasty comment that would surely make Cas hate him.  He did neither.  Cas released his grip, turning his face into a blank mask as Dean heard Sam and Bobby entering the house.  

        Sam saw the two of them and paused.  Dean looked at him, emotions cluttering his throat, and something in his eyes must have said _help me_ because Sam took one of the guns on the kitchen table and handed it to Dean brusquely, “We should get going.”  Sam turned back down to the weapon he was turning in his hands, and Cas backed towards the door.  Bobby nodded, and looked at the three with his usual concern that he tried to mask with a gruff,

        “Wasted enough time already.”

 

        The three soon appeared under warmth and blue sky, and Dean shook his head. “The beautiful room is in an abandoned muffler factory in Van Nuys, California?”  Cas’ voice betrayed none of the emotion of the conversation of just a few minutes ago,

        “Where’d you think it was?”

Dean shrugged,  “I don’t know, Jupiter? A blade of grass? Not Van Nuys.”  Sam looked around and at Castiel with concern,  

        “Tell me again why you don’t just grab Adam and shazam the hell out of there?”

Cas’ voice softened slightly, “Because there are at least five angels in there.”  Dean didn’t like the resignation in Cas’ voice,

        “So, you’re fast.”   _Please, Cas._

                “They’re faster.” _I can’t die knowing that I killed you._  “I’ll clear them out. You two grab the boy.  This is our only chance.”  

        Dean watched Cas undo the tie from around his neck.  That stupid backwards tie. “Woah, wait. You’re gonna take on five angels?”  Cas looked him straight in the eye, defiance and hurt rising back up to the surface.

        “Yes.”

                “Isn’t that suicide?”  Dean knew Cas was making the same choice he had.  As hypocritical as it was, all Dean wanted to do was beg Cas not to sacrifice himself.  The thought of Cas being _gone_. It hurt like hell.  

        “Maybe it is, but then I won’t have to watch you fail.  I’m sorry, Dean.  I don’t have the same faith in you that Sam does.”  It’s obvious that Cas was struggling to stay unaffected as he spoke.  Everything in his eyes was saying, _Please, Dean, prove me wrong. Please, Dean._ Cas’ voice from the past rose to Dean’s mind. “I rebelled. I did it, all of it, for you,” and “I gave everything for you.”

        As Cas pulled a boxcutter from his trenchcoat, Sam’s brow furrowed, “What the hell are you gonna do with that?”  Cas looked up, resigned and sad, all anger gone from his expression.  Not speaking, he began to unbutton his dress shirt, struggling to do so with one hand holding the boxcutter.  Dean’s fingers clenched and unclenched by his sides, but he refrained from reaching out. Then Cas dragged the blade over his chest in a circle.

        “Stop.” Dean realized he had taken the box cutter from Cas’ hand and his fingers were curled around the angel’s wrist.  The blood is dripping down his torso, the beginnings of the sigil already threatening to stain the pure white of the shirt.

        Aware of Sam’s presence, Dean shakily pocketed the box cutter. “Dean.” Cas’ soft voice protested the motion, but his hand remained still.  Cas took his free hand and clasped it over the one Dean has latched on his wrist, his gaze meeting Dean’s steadily. “Dean. I have loved you for a long time.  Even now, I do. And even as you throw your life away, I will always forgive you. I hope you know that, Dean.”

        Dean’s eyes were freely spilling tears at Cas’ words, his hand shaking in Cas’ warm grasp.  “You can’t say those things, Cas.”  Cas’ voice was only a little bitter as he responded,

        “As they are likely my last words, I believe I can.”

        Cas withdrew from Dean’s grasp and motioned for the cutter,  but Dean took his hand and cupped it, stroking the knuckles softly.  Cas took a sharp breath, and Dean felt Sam’s shocked stare.  But it didn’t matter.  Dean couldn’t let Cas die thinking that he gave everything for a man who didn’t care about him.  Because he did. So much it was terrifying.

        Dean moved his hands upward to cup Cas’ face gently.  Cas’ eyes widened, unmoving from Dean’s gaze.  He looked so vulnerable in that moment, and Dean’s heart panged.  Dean took a deep breath and tilted forward, pressing his lips against Cas’ in a chaste kiss.  Dean felt a small, choked gasp, and wetness hit his cheeks.  He opened his eyes to see Cas’ face a flurry of emotion.

        “I do know, Cas.”

        Dean pulled away, looking downward, a flush spreading his cheeks.  After a moment’s hesitation he handed the boxcutter to Cas, who took it, fingers lingering.  The next time Dean looked up, Cas was gone, the edges of his coat disappearing into the warehouse. 


End file.
